


one single thread of gold

by arosebyanyotherpseud (battleofthesurfraces)



Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Marcy Brewer: Certified Troll, Post-Canon, Post-Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:01:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,493
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25746310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/battleofthesurfraces/pseuds/arosebyanyotherpseud
Summary: David and Patrick open wedding presents.
Relationships: Patrick Brewer/David Rose
Comments: 11
Kudos: 147





	one single thread of gold

**Author's Note:**

> Jumping on the folklore lyrics as fic titles bandwagon. A quick, un-beta'd and very fluffy one-shot.

They open their gifts the afternoon after the wedding, in an effort to distract David, Alexis and Stevie (though she’d never admit needing it) from the departure of Johnny and Moira several hours before. The four of them lounge around the motel reception area, Stevie checking out wedding guests between lulls of comfortable silence and murmured conversation. When the last room has been emptied - the emptiest the Rosebud Motel has been in three years - Stevie swings the latch on the door and drags a six-pack of beer from the back, prompting groans from David,

“Absolutely not, I’m never drinking again.” 

“Just a hunch, but I think you’re going to need some alcohol in your system to open Roland’s gift.” David grimaces and shudders at the thought. Patrick leans over David and gratefully accepts a cold can from Stevie with a wink.

“Ugh, my husband is a traitor.” David’s eyes twinkle, Patrick’s soften at the word ‘husband’. Stevie rolls her eyes at them both, Alexis continues picking her cuticles, curled up in the armchair, a content smile on her face.

“Hmm.” Patrick nudges David’s shoulder with his chin, indicating towards the stack of presents, “You go first.”

They, the royal ‘they’ meaning mostly David, make their way through the small pile, most of which are lovely, practical gifts: a voucher for Ray’s closet organisation business, an IOU for a return trip to New York from Alexis, a complementary set of embossed leather motel-style key tags from Stevie for their future house keys. David playfully gripes about the lack of coffee maker and designer sweaters, but he gets a bit misty eyed nevertheless at a beautiful, rose-themed stained glass decoration for the store that had collectively been gifted by the Jazzagals. 

“Huh, this one’s just for you, David. Evidently someone has absolutely no faith in the longevity of our marriage.” Patrick jokes but his husband just looks eager to receive another gift, especially one he doesn’t necessarily have to share, 

“Well I for one am not complaining.” David makes grabby hand motions towards the small, flat, rectangular parcel.

“Wait,” Stevie bends over the table, grabs another package from where it’s slumped over on the floor.

“This one’s just addressed to Patrick.” Patrick takes it from her, a confused look on his face. David leans over curiously and recoils at the sight of the label,

“Ugh, god that’s my mother’s handwriting. Don’t open that, I dread to think what’d she’d decide was an appropriate wedding gift.” Alexis bares her teeth in a sympathetic grimace.

“Hey, if you get to open yours, I get to open mine.” David narrows his eyes.

“Fine. Me first.” David eagerly rips open the packaging, a note fluttering to the floor. Patrick picks it up, barely registering the familiar handwriting on the note before his attention is drawn to David’s guffaw. The gift is a frame, the contents of which David is staring at in delight.

“Oh my god. I had no idea there were photos!” 

Stevie looks at Patrick in bemused alarm, Alexis flapping her hands at David, urging him to turn the frame around.

“What is it, David!”

“Fun fact, Alexis, did you know that Patrick here used to work at branch 785 of Rose Video?” Stevie and Alexis’s faces both alight in delighted grins - Alexis at this new information, Stevie as she realises the current relevance. Patrick looks at the note in his hand and sure enough, it’s his mother's handwriting. David flips the frame around to show his captive audience. From behind the solid frame sixteen-year-old Patrick Brewer looks self-consciously into the camera, wearing a signature red polo shirt and emblazoned Rose Video cap. David grins wickedly at his husband, who has his head in his hands in embarrassment. 

“I had no idea my parents had that photo stashed away somewhere.”

“You managed to make the polyester uniform almost cute.” David’s pressing his lips together in the way he does when he really, really wants to tease Patrick for all his worth. He rests his free hand on Patricks knee and squeezes, eyes lit up with happiness,

“Remind me to send Marcy and Clint an extra special thank you card.”

Stevie, always fond of stirring the pot, is quick to interject,

“What about your gift, Patrick?” David hums happily, no longer bothered by the prospect of his mother’s gifting abilities,

“Oh, I doubt anything’s going to be as embarrassingly cute as this.” 

Still slightly distracted by the soft look on his husband’s face, Patrick carefully unwraps a matching frame in which resides a photo of a much younger David clutching a baseball bat, wearing an oversized helmet, a look of consternation - **that** hasn’t changed much over the years - on his little face. He grins at the sight.

“Aww, David!” He turns the frame around so they can all see it.

“Oh my god, where the fuck did they dig that out from?!” David exclaims. Stevie grabs both of the frames and holds them side by side, her tone relentlessly teasing,

“Aww, look, soulmates!” 

Alexis reaches out to boop David on the nose at his still horrified look, and Patrick collapses into his side with laughter at the sight. They’re all slightly hysterical from post-wedding exhaustion, hangovers and booze, and it’s a good place to be, sitting in the motel with his husband and some of the people he loves most in the word, the first day of marriage receding behind them with the setting sun.

***

It’s only later, when they’re back at their apartment, matching frames propped up by on the coffee table, David doing his skin care routine, that Patrick frowns,

“Wait, do you think our parents coordinated this. Together?” David peeks an alarmed face out of the bathroom, 

“Um, did you give them permission to talk to each other without a chaperone? Because I definitely did not.” 

“When did they arrange this? My parents were only in town for like two days before the wedding.” Patrick meets David’s alarmed eyes,

“Maybe my dad kept in touch with them after your birthday party? Oh god, maybe they like, e-mail.” David pulls a face, horrified by the prospect.

“Maybe they have a joint WhatsApp.” Patrick teases.

“Why would you even potentially manifest that into the universe?” David shakes his head emphatically, eucalyptus serum pot in hand. “Lucky I’ve already locked you down, or our parents interacting could really blow this whole thing up. Poor Marcy and Clint.” 

“I did try to warn them.”

“That’s very sweet, babe, and entirely necessary, but you almost certainly didn’t warn your lovely, very sane parents enough.” Patrick gets up from the couch to peck a kiss on David’s cheek and pull him by the waist to the edge of the bed. 

“I’m sure they’ll survive. Now, maybe we could stop talking about our parents?” Patrick smirks up at David. David raises an eyebrow and pokes him in the chest in consternation,

“That is a terrible euphemism. Never, ever use that one again.” But David’s smiling as he bends down to capture his husband’s lips in his own, and press them both back onto the bed.

***

Later they’re both happily dozing in bed, having made a pact to get a full 12 hours sleep, plus a sizable Club Tropical breakfast the following morning. Drifting off to sleep, wrapped in David’s warmth, Patrick smiles softly at the two frames. 

“It’s kind of cute, you know. Like, maybe we were always meant to meet.”, Patrick murmurs. Behind him, David scoffs a little into his neck, mumbles back, 

“I mean, of all the former employees of Rose Video, you’re the only one I married. And I stuck with child pageantry way longer than I did Little League.”

“It’s nice to think about though, isn’t it?”

“Ugh, you’re such a sap after sex. My husband, the sap.”

“Come on, David. We got married yesterday, you can tap back into that well of sentimentality. I believe in you.”

“Fine.” David threads his fingers through Patrick’s and brings them to Patrick’s chest, matching rings gleaming in the faint light coming through the window. Patrick squeezes David’s hand in his own, looking down at them resting over his heart. David nuzzles further into his neck,

“It is nice to think about. That maybe all along you were out there, just waiting for me.” David thinks hazily about his years alone in New York, about how different his life is now, how much better. He thinks about Patrick’s too - the years of confusion and uncertainty with Rachel, the chance that brought them both here, to Schitt's Creek. The idea of inevitability is comforting alongside the knowledge that any one of a million little changed decisions could have sent them continuing down entirely different paths, never to meet. 

“Hmm, love you, David.” Patrick wiggles even further back into the comfort and security of David’s warmth, exhaling deeply into sleep. 

“Love you too.” David smiles into Patrick's neck as he drifts off too.

**Author's Note:**

> Marcy 100% masterminded the whole thing. This is the fluffiest thing I've ever written and it's giving me hives.


End file.
